AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 161 



It was now near lunch time, and, as we saw no 

 easy landing-place, we made for Arran and its high 

 sheltering rocks. 



The time had sped so swiftly that it appeared 

 wonderful that such appetites could have come back 

 to us. There was quite a liberal supply of food, 

 but it disappeared all too quickly, and the eager 

 second searching of the papers in the basket proved 

 disappointing. Friends have told me not to smoke 

 cigars when on or near the sea. I still do it. I am 

 a splendid listener when the cigar is good and the 

 tales that are told somewhere near the mark. 



Johnny had been with the salmon-fishers in the 

 earlier part of that season, and could tell us of the 

 wondrous takes of fish they got, not in the usual 

 way near the coast, but nine miles out at sea. 

 Boats earned as much as ^80 per week, so there 

 was a rare good harvest. 



The breeze had now died down, and the 

 sun fell upon us quite scorchingly, so we shifted 

 to a shady spot. 



From salmon to seals is but a step, and 

 John was soon telling us strange stories of these 

 latter which showed that superstition regarding 

 them is as rife here as on Tory Island. 



In dark cavities the seals enjoy their wild 

 solitude quite undisturbed, and will continue to 

 do so, for no native dares forget the tales that 

 have been handed down to him. 



Johnny, backed up by McCole's approving 



M 



